


I Need to Breathe and You're the Only Air

by XaviaAndromedovna



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (kinda), Angst with a Happy Ending, Biphobia, Bottom Derek, Coming of Age, Derek Hale Can't Have Nice Things, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Explicit Rape/Non-Con (dream sequence only), Future Fic, Homophobia, Infidelity, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Minor Character Death, Nice Guy trope, No Season 4, Queerplatonic Relationships, Road Trips, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Stiles Leaves Beacon Hills, Top Stiles Stilinski, Trope Subversion/Inversion, Victim Blaming, aromantic spectrum character, douchebag!Stiles, lith!Stiles, lithromantic character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-07
Updated: 2014-08-07
Packaged: 2018-02-12 04:28:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 12,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2095773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XaviaAndromedovna/pseuds/XaviaAndromedovna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles learns the hard way that relationships aren't his thing.  No matter how hard he tries, he can't seem to make it work with Malia.  Of course, Derek accidentally falling for him at the same time just makes matters worse.  </p><p>Nine years in the life of Derek and Stiles.  Plot twist: They're not in love.  But that doesn't stop them from caring.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. For the Monsters That I've Been

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this fic was written for [Big Bang Mixup](http://bigbang-mixup.livejournal.com/profile) on LJ and is based on tryslora's [mix of the same name](http://8tracks.com/tryslora/i-need-to-breathe-and-you-re-the-only-air) (which you really should go listen to). I'm actually really happy with this match, because the mix is amazing and finally gave me occasion to write a Derek/Stiles fic I'm proud of. This fic is basically me working through my copious feelings about the problems in canon and the fandom, so just, yeah. As always, this was betaed by the wonderful Raven. Also, I wrote this before season 4 aired, so Malia's probably a little OOC.
> 
> For more detailed trigger warnings, see the end notes. In case you were confused, Teen Wolf isn't my property. If it were, every single character would be some flavour of queer. Every last one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Sleep" My Chemical Romance

Life is good for Stiles Stilinski. He’s not dead, he’s not unwittingly murdering people, and he’s currently being ridden by his über-hot supernatural girlfriend.

Sure, they didn’t exactly start their relationship the healthiest way by hooking up in a mental hospital while he was in imminent danger of repossession and she was learning how to be human after spending most of her life as a coyote. It especially didn’t help that Malia pretty much hated him from the beginning. But they’re working on it. He’s certainly not gonna turn down a chance to lose his virginity many times in many different positions.

They’ve fooled around a few times since everything calmed down, but this is the first time they’ve gone all the way, and it’s everything he hoped it would be. She leans forward slightly, and the noises coming out of her as he continues to move in and out are making it very hard for him to keep from spilling so soon.

He sits up a bit to catch her mouth in his, and the change in angle is too much.

“I’m gonna…” he tries to spit out. “I’m gonna…”

He goes completely still, a mischievous grin on his sweat-stained face. A fox’s grin.

On one of her upstrokes, he lifts her up off him with one steady hand under her right thigh and uses the other to tear off the condom before slamming back into her.

“Stiles, what the fuck?!” She tries to get up but he quickly inverts their positions so she’s on her back as he fucks into her.

“Stiles, stop it! What are you doing?! STOP IT!”

As he comes inside her thrashing form, he laughs, a sinister noise that morphs into a scream when he wakes up alone in his bed. His t-shirt is damp with sweat and his boxers are damp with semen. Malia was never here.

Okay, so maybe he was wrong about the nightmares having stopped. But at least it was a regular nightmare instead of the industrial-grade ones he had when he went dark-side. That knowledge doesn’t lessen the urge to vomit.

On the way to the bathroom, he collides with his dad, with miraculously few injuries.

“Stiles, what’s wrong?”

He doesn’t answer, just motions to the bathroom and runs. Stiles knows the sheriff is standing awkwardly outside the closed door while he upends the contents of his stomach into the toilet.

“I thought you said you didn’t have the nightmares anymore.”

“Go back to bed, dad, it’s just a normal nightmare. Nothing supernatural, for once.”

“People don’t often throw up from ‘normal’ nightmares.”

Stiles sighs. He knows his father is up for good now, and won’t let him be until he’s asleep again. He could try and convince him that everything’s fine (relatively speaking), but he’d fail.

“Could you bring me a change of clothes? I’m gonna take a shower real quick.”

The three-second hesitation followed by a resigned “sure,” confirms his suspicions. They’re gonna have to talk about this. He spends the duration of his shower trying to come up with a satisfactory cover story. It’s not like his options are slim. He could say he dreamt about twisting the blade in Scott’s stomach, or about his stay at Eichen House, or perhaps he dreamt that he ripped his father’s head off his shoulders without batting an eye. That was last week’s.

The clean sweatpants against his drying skin are a small comfort as he picks up the soiled clothes from earlier and dumps them into the hamper on the way to his room. His dad waits nervously at the foot of the bed.

“Dad, trust me, this was just a run-of-the-mill nightmare, I can feel the difference.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Not really,” he sighs, leaning his head against his father’s shoulder. “It’s gonna take me some time to recover from being a thousand-year-old mass-murdering chaos monster, that’s all.”

The older Stilinski runs a finger behind his son’s left ear, where the mark of the Oni remains. “It’s still there,” he responds to the unasked question. Stiles may already have felt back there five times in the shower just to make sure, but it’s a ritual the two of them do to reassure Stiles he’s still himself. It’s comforting to know that someone else can verify its presence.

“Please tell me you’ve been sleeping, at least.”

“Yep, getting my full eight hours for once. It’s just, sometimes I remember. And then sometimes, I dream that I’m still the nogitsune and I…” Dad doesn’t make him finish that sentence, just whispers a gentle ‘shh’ into his hair as he pulls him in tighter.

After a minute or so, he releases his paternal death grip. “You going back to sleep or you gonna stay up a bit?”

“What time is it?” he asks absently as he checks his phone. Two new messages. Fuck. “It’s already three, so I might as well just stay up until it’s time to go to school.”

“Stiles, if you’re not up for it-”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll be fine.”

The sheriff doesn’t look convinced, but he lets it go. “Just let me know if you need anything. I’ll be downstairs.”

“Dad, c’mon, go back to bed. The sheriff needs his beauty rest.”

“Like you said, it’s already three. I might as well get a head start on my day.” He clasps a firm hand on Stiles’s shoulder before leaving the room with the door slightly open.

He sits there a few minutes with his head in his hands, processing, before checking his messages. One from Malia, five hours ago: **had a great time tonight! sleep tight :)**. He’s definitely not responding to that one right now. The second is from Derek, sent fifteen minutes ago, and he’s not sure whether he should be amused that he’s asking politely like a normal person, or concerned that he’s contacting him at all.

**Can I come over?**


	2. Let's Put the Moon to Bed Tonight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Turn on the Light" William Beckett

One of the few things their ragtag pack ever agreed upon unanimously was that, at least for a few weeks, Stiles would be left out of pack business. This was not a slight; in fact, Stiles was the one that suggested it. It was simply a recognition that a) he’d been through a lot the past few weeks, and b) until they’re 100% sure he’s no longer under the nogitsune’s sway, he should focus on getting better and not worry about if he can trust himself to do what he needs to.

No one said it, but it was also the case that many people couldn’t get the image out of their heads of the nogitsune smirking with Stiles’s face as Allison bled out in Scott’s arms.

So when Kate came back to town six days ago and greeted Derek with a shotgun to the chest and knowledge of a new type of shifter ( _not a dream_ , he told himself, _great_ ), as much as he wanted to tell Stiles all about it, they had an agreement. It took a little longer than they’d hoped, but the pack took care of it. Kate was dead, again, and this time she wasn’t coming back. And Derek only had mild psychological damage from it. Progress.

By the time the matter is settled, it’s three in the morning, and while everyone else heads off to get some much needed rest, he knows sleep will not come so easily for him. He goes for a run to clear his head. His normal path through town takes him by the houses of all the pack, including Stiles, so when he nears the Stilinski residence and hears two wakened heartbeats, it gives him cause for concern. Stiles sounds distressed, but not in danger, so he slows down and approaches the house. Because the sheriff is up (and is perfectly aware of what Derek is), there is no need to sneak in, and now that he and Stiles are friends according to some very loose definitions of the term, sneaking in through the window seems a little _Dawson’s Creek_. He decides to be an adult and pulls out his cell phone.

To Stiles: **Can I come over?**

While he waits for a response, he leans against the side of the building, cloaked in shadows raised by the full moon. It occurs to him that not even two months ago, he would have just kept on running. They had grown closer over the summer searching for his missing betas, but finding out your girlfriend’s the darach who abducted the father of the guy next to you tends to bring out the worst in people.

 _“Your psychotic, mass-murdering girlfriend, second one you’ve dated, by the way…”_ He had tried not to be offended, because Stiles was right. He’d gotten distracted by yet another pretty face, and it got people killed. After the dust settled, he stopped by the Stilinski house to apologize, which turned into a 20-minute screaming match that ended in the sheriff breaking them up before they came to blows. He started with Derek.

“Why are you here?”

“I wanted to apologize for putting you in harm’s way. I didn’t know that she-”

“Derek, what are you talking about? Unless you’re confessing to being an accomplice, I’m pretty sure _Julia_ abducted me, not you.”

“But I’m the reason she got so close.”

“Hey,” the sheriff grunted with eyes that said ‘you’d better listen’. “This isn’t your fault.”

“I should have known better, especially after what Kate did.”

The sheriff stilled. “Derek, what did Kate do?”

Derek told him the one thing he could never tell anyone else (Stiles figured it out by himself), and after an excruciating silence, the man stood up brusquely. “Excuse me, I have to go pistol-whip my son for being an asshole.”

Derek stood as well. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that what you just told me sounds an awful lot like rape, and he knows better than to victim blame. Stay here.”

The sheriff was half-way up the stairs before Derek could respond, so he sat back down and tried to pretend he couldn’t hear the conversation above him. After a bit, Stiles came downstairs and sat rigidly beside him on the couch.

“I’m sorry.” It wasn’t a lie.

“Me too.”

The two of them have never been good about talking through their feelings, so they didn’t. All Derek said was that he was leaving, and he wasn’t sure if he was coming back.

Now he’s returned, and he’s faced his demons once again, and all he wants is to see the two people who know the whole story.

His phone buzzes in his pocket.

**sure I’m awake anyway**

Derek allows himself a tiny grin before walking up to the front door and knocking softly. The sheriff answers.

“Is it taken care of?”

“Yes, sir,” Derek reports.

“Good.” He lets Derek in the door without a second thought. “How are you holding up?”

Derek nods. “I just came to check up on Stiles.”

The sheriff— _John_ — shoots him a look that clearly means ‘yeah right’ before rubbing a tired hand across his face. “He had another nightmare.”

The wolf’s eyebrows furrow. “I thought—”

“He insists that it’s not tree-related, but who knows with him anymore. Maybe you can figure out what’s going on.”

“I can try.”

“Thanks,” John replies as he moves to the kitchen to pour himself some coffee. Before Derek can reach the staircase, John calls his name. “If you wanna talk about it, we’re here for you.”

He contorts his face into a smile-grimace hybrid. “I know.”

He doesn’t bother knocking, just opens the door and sits in an open chair. Stiles doesn’t even look up from his computer. “Hey.”

“Hey.” They sit in silence for a while, content with not having to explain their need for non-judgmental closeness right now. Eventually, John calls up the stairs.

“I don’t hear talking!”

They roll their eyes. Stiles turns to look at Derek. “I’ll tell you why I’m up if you tell me why you’re up.”

Derek grins. “Deal.”


	3. When These Walls Don't Feel Like Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Just Keep Breathing" We the Kings

By the time school lets out in June of everyone’s senior year, Derek has come to a conclusion he wishes he hadn’t.

He’s in love with Stiles.

(God damn it, Lydia.)

Ever since the night Kate died again, he and Stiles have grown a lot closer. He can tell Stiles things he can’t tell anyone else, because he understands what it’s like to have so much blood on your hands. Most of the time, though, he listens to Stiles talk about everything except what’s bothering him, waiting in silence until he comes out and says it. It’s become a lot easier to draw the truth out of him now. He’s Derek’s best friend, and Derek likes to think he’s Stiles’s. Derek could never compete with Scott, nor does he intend to. Scott and Stiles are brothers— literally, now that Melissa and John are together. (It seems Agent McCall couldn’t be bothered to stick around.) But he thinks it says something that Stiles’s emergency contacts— in order— are John, Melissa, Scott, and Derek.

Derek hasn’t had a best friend since before Paige. He almost forgot what it feels like. He laughs a lot more, publicly, and has opened up more to other members of the pack. Contrary to popular opinion, he hasn’t been a brooding pile of man-pain (Stiles’s description of the first few times they met) since the fire. He just spent a lot of time not having a clue what he was doing when he got back, and that made him somewhat of a mess. But now that he can put words to his experiences (and is no longer an alpha), he’s doing a lot better at communicating with people he cares about. He’s still a fairly quiet soul, but that’s just how he likes things.

He’s at the school a few days before graduation, waiting for lacrosse practice to wrap up, when Lydia appears beside him to introduce him to himself.

“You know, I’m pretty sure there’s a law against adults loitering around schools,” she teases.

“I’m glad _someone_ around here thinks of me as an adult,” he retorts.

“Anytime, sweetie. Now, remind me why you’re here?”

“I…” he hesitates. Now that he thinks about it, his reasoning is thin. “I just wanted to talk to Stiles about something.”

Her body language says she’s extremely bored, which has him worried. She normally doesn’t physically freeze people out like that anymore unless she’s about to lay down an uncomfortable truth. “And you couldn’t text him? Must be important.”

“No I just, haven’t seen him in a few days.”

She looks at him with realization. “Oh my god, you _are_ the one he’s cheating on her with.”

His eyebrows jump involuntarily (Stiles would totally chortle about that if he were here). “What?”

“I knew it! I’ve got to say, Derek, stealing your cousin’s boyfriend is a new low.”

“What are you talking about? Stiles is cheating on Malia?”

She seems surprised by his sincerity. “Yeah? Everyone knows that, including Malia. We just don’t know who. You genuinely had no idea?”

He shakes his head slightly. “He never really talks about Malia when we hang out.”

“No, he wouldn’t would he…” Derek is afraid of the tone she takes up at that. She runs a fond hand along his shoulder before strutting away. “Just be careful.”

“Careful? Ah shit, is something wrong?” Stiles jogs the remaining ten feet to catch up with their conversation, but Lydia just places a casual hand on his chest and a deceptively disarming smile on her lips.

“No, no one’s dying. I was just reminding Derek that he’s coming over to my house later tonight to talk through some things, right Derek?”

This time, Stiles is there to chortle when Derek raises his eyebrows.

“That’s a yes.” And with that, Lydia is off to talk to Danny, probably about taking over the world.

“What was that all about?”

“I wish I knew.”

Stiles smiles. “So why are you here if nothing’s wrong?”

“I just hadn’t seen you in a few days and wanted to make sure you didn’t blow anything up.”

“That was one time!”

Derek snorts. “Actually twice.”

“Hey now, evil fox possession absolutely does not count. Ass.” Stiles opens up Roscoe and Derek gets in the passenger side. “You ran here?”

“Walked.”

Stiles seems to understand the subtext of _the apartment felt really empty_. “Don’t worry, Malia comes home tomorrow.”

Derek rolls his eyes because _I know, Stiles, I live with her_. Although speaking of Malia…

When they get to the loft, Derek makes the sign they developed to indicate he wants to have a serious conversation about _feelings_ , and assumes the position on the floor, sitting cross-legged with his back to Stiles. Stiles does the same, back pressed against his in a way that is extremely comforting. Almost revitalizing.

Oh. Maybe that’s what Lydia meant.

“I’m in love with you.” Oh shit. That was absolutely not where Derek was going with this, at all. This was supposed to be about Malia, why the hell did he say that? This is not the time for such a realization, let alone to _tell Stiles about it_.

Derek can feel the tension in Stiles’s back as he tries very pointedly not to break safe space. “Excuse me?”

Derek’s the one who pulls away and stands up, putting several feet between him and the _barely legal_ boy to whom he just confessed his attraction. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that. That’s not what I meant at all.”

“Then why would you say it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you even like guys?”

“Yes. I’m bisexual.”

Stiles stands up. “Since when?”

Derek doesn’t answer— because that’s not actually a valid question to ask someone— just huffs and tries to ignore the instinct to run away.

“No seriously, because I feel like that’s something that would have come up already.”

“You never asked.”

“I never knew I needed to! Look, Derek, you and I are just friends okay? I’m not gay, and more importantly I’m with Malia.”

“Whom you’re cheating on.”

Stiles looks as if he’d been slapped across the face, which is pretty accurate metaphorically speaking. “Fuck you.” He walks out. Derek picks up the phone and calls Lydia.

“Hey, actually, can you come over now? I fucked up.”


	4. My Painful, Fatal Flaw

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Heart Stops" AFI

Lydia Martin is 1000% done with Nice Guys. It took her long enough to convince Stiles that they were never, _ever_ going to happen. At first Stiles’s obsession with her was kinda cute, but by high school, it was just creepy. Usually, she would have continued to ignore him, but since he was heavily involved in the supernatural bullshit that was quickly taking over their lives, she deigned to give him the time of day. This had the unfortunate effect of giving Stiles hope that they’d ever become a thing, and his efforts increased.

She and Stiles were much better off friends. Yes, he saw parts of her not even her boyfriend did, and he genuinely cared about her safety. And when he was too busy to make her uncomfortable, they got along quite nicely. But that in no way indicated they were a good romantic fit, and for Stiles to continue to pretend like he’d somehow ‘earn’ her love was getting disturbing fast. Thankfully, Stiles seemed to realize this as well, sometime around their panic attack kiss which was mutually decided to be a one-time, emergency thing. Lydia was extremely lucky; she found the one Nice Guy who got uncomfortable as soon as she started to like him back. Only Stiles. 

She’s glad, because not only is he a major support system for her now, but they are extremely good partners in crime-solving. And she does have to give him credit. Helping Derek work through his issues enough that he can tell everyone what Kate did has made Stiles a _lot_ more aware about consent. He even went so far as to apologize to Lydia for being creepy, and now they’re closer than ever.

So when Derek starts exhibiting some of the same behaviors Stiles used to, it makes her a little upset. Yes, she understands that he has trouble relating to people healthily because of Kate (she has her suspicions about what he did to get Erica to join his pack) but it’s not an excuse.

Of course, that’s not the part Stiles is freaking out about.

Stiles is many things. Near the top of the list is _problematic_. The entire school is convinced he’s bisexual because of all the obliviously-homoerotic things he says, but the thing about Stiles is that he’s oblivious. Case in point: the conversation she’s currently having with him about Derek apparently confessing his feelings. She should have pulled the wolf aside a lot earlier.

“Why would he think I like guys? Do I like, give off a gay vibe or something? Every time I asked Danny if I was attractive, he just rolled his eyes, but maybe that’s just him?”

“Stiles…”

“And like, how could he not tell me he’s bi? Does he think I don’t know what that is or something? Caitlin’s bi and I’m… friends with her. He could have told me so I’d be prepared for this.”

“Stiles.”

“I mean, this whole time he’s been trying to what, get close to me? Make me his boyfriend? Oh god, does he think I’m his boyfriend?!”

“STILES! Shut up!”

“Why, what’s wrong?”

“You! You’re being an inconsiderate douchebag and it’s getting on my nerves.” She shifts on her bed as he scoffs. “Okay, I don’t know all the details here, and if he is Nice Guying you, then you have every right to be upset, but you’re being really homophobic right now and it is not cute.”

“I am not! Just because I’m not attracted to guys doesn’t mean I’m homophobic.”

“Do you even hear the words coming out of your mouth right now? Having token queer friends doesn’t make you magically enlightened. There’s a reason Danny didn’t talk to you until recently, and it’s because you’re kind of awful to him sometimes. Don’t think he didn’t tell me about the Miguel situation.”

“What, he was staring at Derek like they were about to bone right there. I just used it to my advantage.”

“Which is _not okay_!”

Lydia’s phone rings and of course it’s Derek again.

“I’m fine, Derek, I just got sidetracked by a certain someone.”

“…He’s there?”

“Yes, he’s here, and you both owe me big time for playing Switzerland in this, because the two of you are idiots. I’ll see you in an hour or two.”

When she hangs up, she sees Stiles has seated himself on her vanity bench.

“I’m sorry for dragging you into this.”

She sits down beside him. “It’s okay. Someone has to help you guys out when your problem is each other.”

“I just don’t know where this is coming from, you know? Like, why was it so important to say this _now?_

Lydia shrugs, because that’s not an answer she can give. Oh, wait a minute.

“There is one small issue we need to clear up.”

“What’s that?”

“Are you cheating on Malia?”

He doesn’t say anything for a long time, just opens and closes his mouth in disbelief. He’s clearly deciding whether he’s pissed off or guilty. Guilty seems to win. “Is it that obvious?”

“It’s obvious _that_ you’re cheating, though no one knows who with. Except I may have accused Derek of being the one you’re seeing behind her back.”

“What?”

“He was waiting outside the school specifically for you for no good reason. It’s obvious he likes you, and I just thought… So I said something and I think ironically that finally made it click for him.”

“Huh.” They sit there for a moment in uncomfortable silence, which Lydia has come to fear from her talkative friend. Eventually Stiles sighs and leans over to hug her, voice distant. “You should go talk to him, he’s probably freaking out.” He stands. “Scott should be home by now so I’ll just go bother him.”

“Stiles…”

“Lydia, go. I have some things I need to figure out.”

“Like what you’re going to tell Malia?”

His hands are shaking and she knows she pushed too far, because he whispers a rushed “excuse me” and walks out of her bedroom. When he’s halfway down the stairs, she hears his phone ring and the beginnings of his forcibly-cheery conversation. “Hey! How is it? Yeah, can’t wait to see you either…”

She grabs her keys and shoots a quick text to Derek telling him that actually she’s on her way. “These boys seriously need to get their shit together,” she mutters to herself before getting in her car to help them do just that.


	5. Can't Return to Who I Was Before

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Breathe" Anberlin

Despite everyone else’s better judgment, Stiles and Malia stayed together once he explained to her about the four girls (“ _four girls_ , Stiles?” Scott had repeated, incredulously) he was sleeping with who weren’t her. (Scott may have sat him down and threatened him with supernatural violence if he didn’t get his act together and either break up with Malia or stop sleeping around.) It was a little surprising that Stiles didn’t just break it off— he had long ago accepted a spot in Syracuse’s freshman class and would thus be moving across the country for a time— but he seemed genuinely upset about it and promised he would try to make their relationship work.

The situation with Derek was harder for Scott to negotiate, because of course it blew up to such grand proportions that he had to step in and once again unite the pack. When he finally got them in the same room, Derek mumbled some apology about making Stiles uncomfortable and Stiles grumbled something about not meaning to be homophobic, and they haven’t really spoken since. It kind of has Scott at his wit’s end.

If Scott didn’t know that Stiles accepted his slot months before things with Derek blew up, he’d think his brother was running away, but he assures himself he’s not. People in the pack leave town and come back all the time. And sure, it doesn’t make them the easiest to get a hold of in an emergency, but seeing as the McCall pack was pretty much founded on free will, it seemed petty to limit people’s mobility like he’s heard other packs do. He just wishes it wasn’t Stiles who is headed cross-country.

“Can you please just talk to Derek before you leave,” he needles as he helps him pack. “For me?”

Stiles sighs and tosses a book into the last box for shipping before closing it up. “About what? Ever since The Incident neither of us feels comfortable around each other. It’s not like we’re fighting. We’re just, not as close as we used to be.” He flops onto the bed, and Scott follows.

“He’ll miss you. And I think you’ll miss him too.”

Stiles turns to face him. “Yeah, well maybe that’s what we need. Once we forget how awkward we are together, we can move on.”

“That actually sounds like a good idea.”

The beaming grin that’s once again part of Stiles’s repertoire of facial expressions is always a welcome sight. “All my ideas are brilliant.”

Scott glares.

“Okay, most of them. Like, 51-49.”

“At least say goodbye.”

Exasperated sighing accompanies Stiles sitting up. “ _Fiiiine_ , I’ll stop by the loft tomorrow before my flight.”

“Thank you.”

“Yeah yeah, you’re just tired of hearing about the darker recesses of my mind and want me to go back to dumping it on Derek.”

“I prefer that to hearing the gory details about you and Malia.”

“Spring break junior year, Scott. That’s all I have to say on the matter. You have no room to talk.”

“Oh c’mon, you’d never have believed me if you didn’t see it yourself.”

“I think we were all better off not believing.”

~~~

Stiles and Derek do indeed make up. In some ways the distance makes it easier to share what they need to, probably because they aren’t right there to get frustrated with each other. Scott’s just glad that Derek smells less like anxiety, and Stiles sounds a lot happier over the phone.

Scott meets Derek’s new girlfriend two weeks after they start dating. Her name is Aurelia, she’s a swan maiden, and she seems like a genuinely nice person. Then again, so did Julia, so the next day Scott sits Derek down to make sure this is what he wants.

“I was hoping you wouldn’t meet her yet,” Derek grinds out. “I wanted to be sure before I brought her to the pack.”

“Yeah, but isn’t that what burned you every other time? Being the only person who knew you were in a relationship?”

Derek has resorted to his eyebrows, which in this context means _you’re right but I’m too stubborn to admit it_. Scott’s gotten good at this.

“I actually think it’s better this way. Now I can keep an eye on her from the get-go. We’ll get you a win yet!”

Derek nods with an awkward grimace. It’s the most Scott expects get out of his beta, but a few moments later, he speaks again. “I’m not always this unlucky.”

Scott grins. “With people or in general?”

Derek returns a smile of his own. “Both. It comes and goes. I have an ex-boyfriend who isn’t dead or a murderer, so I can’t be completely cursed.”

“You have an ex-boyfriend?”

“Mirsad. I met him when Laura and I lived in Des Moines.”

“When were you in Iowa?”

“After Vancouver but before New York.”

“Why’d you break up?”

“Laura wanted to move on and he was settled. I almost stayed with him, but we were growing apart anyway so I left.”

“Wow,” Scott replies. “That sounds… pretty normal actually.”

Derek snorts. “I can be a functional person when I want to be.”

“Don’t let Stiles hear you say that.”

They’re at a point now where Derek can joke about Stiles like the summer never happened. “He’d probably say something stupid about sticking to guys given my track record.”

Scott laughs, because it’s totally something he’d say. “You should tell him. About Aurelia I mean. He’d be happy for you.”

This prediction is more or less correct for a time. She proves to be an absolutely vital asset to the pack, and Stiles gives his stamp of approval over Skype about a month into ‘Derelia’, as he calls it. Her hair is as flawless as Erica’s post-werewolf, but she has the build of Cora and Lydia’s poise. Personality-wise, she is almost exactly like Allison, and it unsettles Scott a lot for the first month or so. But he has Kira now, so it hurts a little less.

Derek is almost like a different person, and that’s probably the biggest mark in her favor. He laughs a lot brighter, he opens up to the pack, and he smells more and more like hope.

Naturally, that’s when Malia and Stiles decide to break up for good.


	6. The Darker Side of All My Brightest Hopes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Paint You Wings" All Time Low

She _really_ should have seen this coming. Then again, Stiles always did bring out her worst judgment.

The problem with Stiles is that he’s surprisingly into the whole idea of True Love and The One and all that other garbage that makes Malia ill. But he’s still her first, and he went out of his way to make her feel welcome and safe, and he says he loves her, so they stay together for a long time. They stay together through him cheating on her in high school, through Derek confessing his undying love, through the long distance, through Malia having to kill Peter, through so many obstacles that should make them an invincible couple.

But the problem with Stiles is that as much as he’s a sucker for True Love, he is incapable of keeping it in his pants.

He must have forgotten just how good a werecoyote’s sense of smell is, because he returns to Beacon Hills reeking of two girls and a guy that come off a little too potent to be his roommates or friends. She doesn’t say a word, just hands him the keys to his Jeep and seethes in the passenger seat. About a mile from Lydia’s mom’s house, he pulls over and lets out a tense sigh. “You’re breaking up with me, aren’t you.”

It’s not a question, so she doesn’t bother answering. They both know what’s going on.

“I’m sorry,” he continues. “I swear I tried I just—”

“Can we not talk about it? I’m sick of your face right now and you smell like strangers.”

He runs a hand through his once-again-buzzed hair and visibly tries to keep his breathing even. “I guess ‘I love you’ isn’t gonna cut it this time?”

She growls. Hopefully that’s enough of a hint for him. If not, she’d be glad to make it more obvious.

“Right.” He starts the Jeep back up and drives the rest of the way to Lydia’s. She gets out as soon as he slows down in the driveway, muttering for Aurelia to come down if she can hear her. Aurelia says she’s on her way, so Malia ignores Stiles calling after her and tells Aurelia to meet her at the Preserve. Then she takes off in a run.

It takes Aurelia about fifteen minutes to fly there, though she probably only needed three. People seem to get that Malia prefers to deal with things alone. They would probably make a strange sight to passersby: a swan staring at a moody coyote. Finally, Malia huffs and shifts back to human. When Aurelia has done the same, the two sit naked against a tree and listen to the forest for a bit. There’s a reason she asked her cousin’s girlfriend to be here: not only are they both completely unfazed by nudity, but she also gets Malia’s aversion to human drama. They almost don’t even have to say anything. Almost.

“I broke up with Stiles on the way here.”

“We could tell. What happened? I don’t know him very well, so I promise to take your side.”

She snorts. “He cheated on me again. Which, I don’t actually care about shit like that, but he really, really does, which is why I don’t understand why he _does it_.”

“I’m confused. You’re saying he’s the one who wants you to be exclusive, yet he sleeps around all the time?”

“I don’t get it either. I’ve tried talking to him about it, but he shuts me out. Always has. The only people he ever opened up to are Scott and Derek, and we all know how Derek turned out.”

“Yeah, Derek mentioned something about that. Actually, the way everyone describes him, he sounds like an asshole.”

“Yeah, but he’s our asshole,” she responds automatically, like she always does when someone points it out. “And he really is a great guy most of the time. He just, has his moments.”

Aurelia turns to look at her skeptically. “I think you’re the only person I’ve ever met who breaks up with someone then defends him to the friend trying to comfort her.”

Hah. Yeah, that sounds accurate. “He has that effect on people. You spend most of your time unsure whether he’s unbearably annoying or completely endearing. I mean, I could waste time being mad at him, but I honestly think he’s more scared than anything. He and I have great sexual chemistry, but I’ve always known I was way more into him than he was into me.”

“Then why didn’t he break up with you instead of constantly cheating on you? Don’t take this the wrong way, but it sounds a lot like he’s trying to control you.”

“That’s what Lydia told me, but trust me that’s not it. Well it is a little, but I think it’s mostly that he’s scared of the fact he didn’t actually have feelings for me, so he overcompensated by trying so hard to make this work. Which, yes, is slightly terrifying, but I should have put him out of his misery long ago.”

“When did these things get so complicated?”

Malia nudges her harder than she would a human but light enough to be teasing. “Shut up, just because you and Derek are perfect doesn’t mean you can rub it in.”

“We are not,” Aurelia blushes.

Malia rolls her eyes and stares up into the dimming sky through the forest leaves. “Ugh, can we talk about something other than boys?”

They stay out for another hour before reluctantly going back for the welcome home party they had planned. When they arrive, everyone is fairly intoxicated (a feat for most everyone here), which was a good idea up until now. Because Stiles— complete with new wardrobe to throw everyone off the scent— has been singing horribly off-key to some angsty ‘fuck-you’ song he put on and keeps going when Malia walks in the door.

“ _I painted a picture of the things I wanted most_  
 _to color in the darker side of my brightest hopes._  
 _But there’s a monster standing where you should be_  
 _so I’ll paint you wings, I’ll set you free!”_

During this time, while everyone else is laughing their asses off at Stiles’s antics, she notices Derek is eying him very carefully. Stiles eyes him back, but in a completely different way. When the song ends, Stiles stumbles over to him, takes his face into both hands and tries to make out with him. Scott, good friend that he is, tries to pull Stiles off before he does something he regrets, but ironically ends up just making it worse. Malia turns around and walks out so she doesn’t have to see anymore, but not before she can hear Stiles yelling. “No, put me down! Derek, I love you! And I don’t care who knows it!!”


	7. A Stranger I Know Well

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "The Test" The Academy Is...

Stiles wakes up the next morning, though just barely, judging by the pounding in his head. He pukes into a conveniently-located bucket and sits up in the bed he’s evidently sharing with Scott. Shit must have gone down if Scott isn’t sleeping with Kira. Maybe they broke up or something? No, the hickey on his neck proves otherwise. Aaand that’s too much thinking for Stiles this morning. He vomits a few more times for good measure before taking the bucket with him into the bathroom and dumping it in the toilet. He rinses it out in the tub before placing it next to the bed and heading into the kitchen for some water. Two pairs of glowing eyes— one electric blue, one aquamarine— greet him warily, but he furrows his eyebrows and fills a glass with tap water. Derek seems moodier than usual, and he doesn’t know Aurelia well enough yet, but he’s gonna assume that was the stink-eye. “What the hell went down last night,” mutters to himself.

Well, not exactly to himself; his time away also made him less aware of were-hearing. “You see?” Aurelia coos softly, her head on Derek’s shoulder. “He doesn’t remember.”

“What don’t I remember?”

Derek stands up abruptly and storms out of the apartment. So much for progress.

“Yep, too hungover for this,” Stiles says, queasily. He waddles back to the bedroom, unloads into the bucket, swishes with some water, and goes the fuck to sleep.

~~~

When he’s finally ready to join the living, Scott’s side of the bed is long-cold and the clock on the nightstand says 1:24pm. He guzzles the water he left beside him and begrudgingly starts his day. Everyone else is gone except Lydia and Aurelia, both of whom secretly have degrees in Emasculating Stares. Although whereas Aurelia just looks unimpressed and slightly frustrated, Lydia genuinely looks like she’s out for blood. And since she has taken on Derek as one of her personal projects ever since The Incident, she very well could scream his death soon out of spite.

“I fucked up again, didn’t I…”

“Hmm,” Lydia starts, “should I begin with cheating on Malia— _again_ — or getting in a fight with Scott? Or maybe making fun of Isaac?”

“Was Isaac even here?”

“He showed up when you all started drinking,” Aurelia chimes in.

“Right, I do remember that. What’d I say?”

“Before or after locking him in a closet?”

“He did _what_?!” Lydia must not have known that part.

“Oh my god, now he actually hates me. Shit. Is that why Derek was pissed this morning?”

The girls look at each other with obvious disbelief at how Stiles could be so clueless; he really wishes he couldn’t pinpoint that particular expression so automatically. Except this time it’s tinged with judgmental disgust. They silently seem to agree that Aurelia gets to broach this one.

“No, actually he’s pissed that you tried to make out with him then declared your undying love in front of everyone, including your ex-girlfriend.”

Stiles fumbles into a chair and feels behind his ear. It’s still him. “I did what?”

“And do you know what the worst part is?” Lydia is right in his face, spitting out words icily and slow.

“How is that not the worst part?”

It’s Derek that answers from behind him. “Because your heartbeat didn’t change. Can you give us a minute?”

“Derek, I’m not so sure that’s the best idea…”

“I can handle it.” He sits down opposite Stiles and raises his eyebrows at the women until they leave. Stiles kinda wishes they hadn’t backed down so easily, because the look on Derek’s face is devastating.

“Well, at least now we’re even on the gushy-love-confessions -to-taken-men front, right?” The wolf looks the slightest bit less upset, which Stiles counts as a win. “Look, dude, I’m sor—”

“It’s fine. You don’t remember.”

“Isn’t that worse? I was a dick to you _and_ I didn’t even feel bad about it until right now. How have you not detached my head yet?”

“You didn’t mean it.”

He dares to look Derek in the eyes in confusion. “But you just said my heartbeat didn’t change.”

“Which only means that you believed it when you said it.”

“Derek, I have to tell you something.”

“Don’t.”

“I’m pan.”

“Stiles, don’t.”

“I’m sorry about the loft, I didn’t—”

“Stop!” The blue eyes are out. Stiles hasn’t seen Derek look scared in a while. “Is this one of your stupid dream tests or something?”

“Dude, no, just listen to me!”

“No, you listen to me. Stiles, I have a girlfriend whom I love very much, and you know how big a deal that is. I can’t have you waltzing in here and suddenly you…”

Usually he’d pressure Derek to finish that sentence, but under the circumstances, he lets it go. “You’re right, I’m sorry. That was a dick move. And I’m not saying I’m in love with you because I’m not. I just wanted to say that my reasons for turning you down were bullshit, and in hindsight pretty hypocritical. I’m sorry.”

Derek nods. So they’re back to square one, then.

“I just, I don’t know what’s wrong with me, you know? I like the _idea_ of being in a relationship, but any time someone expresses interest in me like that… I dunno, it just feels like a lot of pressure. Like, when you told me you liked me I freaked out, not because I already had a girlfriend, but because I had no idea how to handle someone else’s feelings. The only reason I was dating Malia is because she was my first and I felt like it was the non-douchey thing to do. I tried so hard to make it work, but I just couldn’t.”

A light of recognition flitters across Derek’s face before he stands up calmly. “I think you have some research to do.”

“Uhh… on what?”

“Look up ‘lithromantic’.” Derek smiles thinly before walking out of the dining room.

“Ugh, I thought I was done with homework!”

~~~

That night as he’s making his way through Tumblr, he finally understands what Derek was trying to tell him. It all clicks into place: romantic orientation and sexual orientation are different, some people don’t feel romantic attraction at all, some like him feel it but don’t like it reciprocated. He reads through all the misconceptions about lithromantics that he’s said about himself before: that he’s just a slut, that he’s incapable of love or commitment, that he’s a tease or a stalker. And the greatest revelation is that yes, he’s been all those things at one point or another, but only because those were the only models he had. His obsession with Lydia, his relationship with Malia, his reaction to Derek, it all makes sense now. And he finally knows enough about himself to get it right.

He sends his friend a text at 2am because he knows he won’t be too mad about it. **You’re right, I’m lith. Probs also poly. Good call, buddy.** He sleeps a little easier that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am aware that some people find the term 'lithromantic' to be appropriative of lesbian/stone experience, but as a stone, lith, queer woman, I disagree. For the purposes of this fic, 'lithromantic' is an unproblematic term in their universe.


	8. My Past in Silhouettes up on the Wall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Sad Song" We the Kings ft. Elena Coats

With the exception of Mirsad, none of Derek’s relationships ever lasted past four months, because his partners always ended up dead. He got Paige killed because he was insecure. He got his family killed because Kate was a psychopath; she’s died twice and he still doesn’t feel like he has closure. Vanessa, his girlfriend in New York, was gunned down in a gang shooting of all things. And Jennifer, well let’s just say there was a line for the privilege of slashing her throat.

When Aurelia was alive long enough to meet Stiles, he dared to hope that his luck had changed, that she would be one of the good ones. When they were still together two-and-a-half years later, he dared to hope that he was finally done with losing people he loved. And so he dared to hope she’d say yes when he proposed. She did.

And because Beacon Hills has an inexplicable karmic grievance against Derek Hale, a week later she was dead.

He buries her where he’d tried to bury his sister so long ago now. He wishes he knew if there are death rituals for swan maidens, but he doesn’t. All he knows is that he wishes he could forget watching her fall out of the sky.

_Beacon Hills is oddly quiet by the time the pack finishes high school. For three years, nothing too serious bothers them, and they go about their lives in peace. It turns out that Scott is a magnificent alpha, who has created friends of former enemies so many times that he’s amassed a network of potential allies in case he needs them, and thus has little trouble from werewolves, hunters, fae, unicorns (who knew?) and vampires._

_When trouble does inevitably come, they are fortunate in that everyone is home for summer break. The problem is that trouble takes the form of a school of sirens, and no one knows how to defeat them._

_The reason the lore is so fuzzy on whether sirens are bird-like or fish-like is because for some reason they have vastly different beta and alpha shapes, like the kanima but weirder. For this reason, by the time they’ve figured out what they’re up against the body count is up near darach levels._

_Werewolves are fairly useless in water, and the only one among them who can fly is Aurelia, who— while supernatural— does not have much in the way of combat readiness. The plan is to draw them onto land so they can fight them that way. Earplugs in place, the pack tries to distract them while Derek and Isaac set up the net across the lake in the Preserve where the sirens have been hiding. Aurelia carries it over the water from one wolf to the other, but halfway through her trek the lead siren appears. She picks up the pace and tosses the net to Isaac before being clipped by the leader, and the two tumble into the water. Aurelia establishes buoyancy and flies off, daring the siren to chase her so that the pack can round up the others. Stiles pulls out his gun and waits for a clear shot to back her up. He gets a few rounds off but nothing hits. For five minutes, the plan is working flawlessly; the beta sirens are almost to the shore when Derek looks up and sees the flying one grab Aurelia by her swan neck and crush it._

_“NO!” he cries out, dropping the net. The rest of the pack has the others taken care of; he needs to get to his fiancée._

_He hears yet another crack of the gun as he dives into the water. Stiles must have gotten a clear shot on the siren finally, because it too falls into the water. They don’t know how effective wolfsbane is, so when he hoists Aurelia onto his back he just keeps swimming away from the body._

_Swan maidens, like banshees, are rare in the supernatural world in that their healing abilities are but slightly better than humans. He only needs to take one look at her neck to know he’ll have to bury her._

Unlike Laura, the entire pack is here to watch him put her in the ground. It’s their first loss since Allison and Aiden, and it hurts just as much. When the last clump of dirt is laid, and the vendetta swirl is carved in the dirt for the winged siren to see when it shows its face again, the pack howls in mourning so loud the humans have to cover their ears as they join in. No one says anything after that, they just stand there crying. As the hours tick by, they disappear one by one until only Derek and Malia remain.

“I sent Stiles home.”

“I know,” he manages. Stiles doesn’t do anything quietly.

“You’re leaving, aren’t you.”

He nods. Everyone will be scarce for the next few days, but Derek’s instinct has always been to run when something like this happens. “I have to find her family. And if I’m lucky, I’ll find where the siren flew off to.”

“They’ll just come looking for you.”

“They never have before.”

“You were never engaged before.”

He looks down at the ring he’s been wearing all week. He could never place why it looked so foreign on him, why it always surprised him. Perhaps it’s because long-term happiness just isn’t in his cards.

“Hey,” Malia says, gently tilting his chin up so he’s looking at her. “Don’t you dare smell hopeless. We’ll figure it out.”

He doesn’t respond, just takes off on a run, howling into the night. The weres can’t help but howl back.

~~~

The next morning, he packs one duffel and slams the loft door shut in an eerie parallel to five years ago, only Cora isn’t there with him for reassurance. But when he gets to the bottom floor, he sees a blue Jeep and a subdued smirk.

“So,” Stiles calls out. “Where we going?”


	9. Would You Still Be Lost If You Were Losing With Me?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Parachute" Ben Hazlewood

Stiles isn’t sure how long he’ll be gone, so he packs up all his stuff for college early and loads up the Jeep, just in case. His father doesn’t bother making him stay; it goes without saying that Stiles needs this trip almost as much as Derek does. Once The Incident-Part Two had passed and Stiles had figured some things out about himself (read: grew up), he and Aurelia actually became really close friends, so close that they both asked him to be the best man at their wedding. He feels like he failed her, just like he failed Allison and Heather and so many other people in his life. Yeah, he’s gonna be gone for a while.

Four hours into their trip, Derek still hasn’t said much except where they’re headed. He wants to visit Aurelia’s flock in central Manitoba so he can tell them in person, and after that it’s anyone’s guess, although he feels morally obligated to stopover in Vancouver first to visit the woman who initially took him and Laura in. Lucky for them, Stiles grabbed his passport before he left. They pull over outside Oregon to disassemble and hide all the weapons except Stiles’s emergency gun, and stop by a library long enough to print the billion forms he needs to take it across the border intact. “Trust me Derek, if we do this one the right way, no one’ll bother to look for the other ones.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Are you more inclined to accept ‘son of a sheriff’ or ‘former trickster spirit’?”

“How about ‘know-it-all college kid who’ll probably get us deported’?”

Derek hands him twenty bucks past the border when Stiles turns out to be correct. And because Stiles is such a generous person, he doesn’t even call Derek on the fact that he made good on their bet in Canadian currency instead of American, the troll.

The woman they meet in Vancouver— Elsie— is an absolute gem, and her and Stiles joke a bit (extensively) about their favourite grump, who just frowns ineffectively due to the blush on his cheeks. Stiles wishes he had a camera besides his dead phone; no one will believe him. Elsie sets them up together in the guest room with a wink that Stiles is too tired to correct.

It’s sheer luck that he hears Derek get up in the middle of the night, or maybe it’s the fact that there’s no longer the pressure of a werewolf arm across his chest that will probably never be mentioned aloud ever.

“Something wrong?”

“Go back to sleep,” Derek responds, lacing up his boots.

“No way, if you’re going somewhere, you’re gonna need back-up.”

“I’ll be fine. I’m just going for a run.”

Stiles eyes him warily, but lays back down with a huffed ‘whatever’. He hears Derek whisper, “goodbye Stiles” before shutting and locking the bedroom door. Oh Hell no.

“Derek? Derek did you just— Derek! Don’t you dare! Get your furry werewolf ass back here I swear to god!” He hears a car start up outside. “Damn it!”

Well, shit.

At least he didn’t take the Jeep.

Three minutes later, he gets a text from the traitor: **I’m sorry.**

He waits until he’s shimmied out the window and onto the ground before calling him. “Tell me you did not make me cross an international border just so you could give me the slip. I will find you, Hale, and when I do there will be so much mistletoe in your body you’ll be puking Christmas cards!” Roscoe roars to life as he tears out of the driveway.

“Stiles, just get some sleep and go home. I need to do this alone.”

“The fuck you do! We’re in this together, dude.” The faint sound of sirens on the other end of the phone coupled with a whispered ‘fuck’ make Stiles slow down, a smug grin on his face. “Are you getting pulled over?”

“Not if I can help it.”

“Oh god, please don’t get deported, no matter how hilariously fitting it is.”

Derek hangs up. If anyone could disappear in a police chase, it’s the surly werewolf he’s about to murder repeatedly. Although if he took the car Stiles thinks he did, then he might not get very far after all.

When Stiles pulls up to the flashing lights, he laughs his ass off for a solid five minutes as he waits silently off to the side with his engine cut. He knows Derek can hear him, which makes him laugh even louder. Payback’s a bitch.

For some reason the mountie lets him go— probably the classic excuse of ‘oh, you use _kilometers_ here?’ When Derek doesn’t immediately drive off, Stiles lets out a deep breath and pulls the Jeep up beside him.

“You gonna tell me what’s up, big guy? Or do I have to chase you all the way to Manitoba?”

He rolls his eyes and puts the car in gear, turning around to lead Stiles back to the house. Elsie greets them at the front door. “Oh good, your lover’s quarrel is over.”

“We’re not—“

“Let it go, dude, she ships it too hard to care.”

They both hesitate at the bed, clearly remembering the same thing. Stiles shakes himself and gets in, patting Derek’s side of it playfully. He rolls his eyes at how stiff the man is when he lays down, so he sets himself up as little spoon and drags Derek’s arm around him. It takes the wolf a minute to relax around him, but he eventually does with a muttered, “sorry.”

“What were you thinking?”

“I didn’t want to drag you into this. I just needed to leave town so I can clear my head.”

“And what part of that requires you to do it without telling me?”

Derek’s sigh against his neck creates an inopportune reaction down below. “I’m bad news. You shouldn’t be around me right now.”

“God, you say that every time someone dies, you know that?” He turns around so that their chests are touching, but he’s more focused on the tears Derek refuses to shed. “Repeat after me: this was not my fault.”

“Stiles—” 

“Ah ah! Say it.”

“This was not my fault.”

“Good boy. Now once more like you believe it. Don’t you roll your eyes at me!”

He rolls them even more dramatically, but he complies.

“This was not my fault.”

“You’re not alone anymore. You have a pack that loves you and that wants you to be happy. We get that you have every reason to feel miserable right now, but you can’t keep shutting us out.”

“I just need some time alone.”

“And I totally get that. Tell you what, Elsie said we could stay here a few days, right? You go disappear into the woods for a while and when you’re ready to move on you’ll come get me. Sound fair?”

Derek nods before pulling Stiles closer so that his head rests on his muscular chest, and this is _so_ not the time for Stiles jr. to make an appearance.

He falls asleep before he can even feel awkward.


	10. I'll Take the Truth at Any Cost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "We are Broken" Paramore

When they arrive at the home of Aurelia’s parents and sister, the five of them look at each other with resigned recognition. They hug as a group on the front lawn for a little while before the boys are ushered inside.

Derek has never been close with his fiancée’s family, but they’ve always been extremely generous and kind, a trait for which he is currently very grateful. They simply assume that the two are staying the night and get them set up in another guest room. They sit around the kitchen table with coffee and mournful faces as they talk through what happened and what she was like. It doesn’t make it hurt any less, but it certainly doesn’t make it worse.

He asks about traditional death rites, and the next night they perform a ritual honoring their fallen friend, lover, family in the grove where they fly. They tell him and Stiles a legend that swan maidens killed unjustly sometimes become willow trees, and that if you make an instrument of its branches, it will not play notes but the voice of the deceased. Stiles asks if they’ve ever seen it, but the flock just laughs sadly and informs them that these are only fairytales, nothing practical.

Ever since Vancouver, he and Stiles have gotten in the habit of cuddling at night. They don’t talk about it because they don’t need to. Maybe someday they’ll discuss what they mean to each other, but right now neither of them has any interest in a relationship. He just needs to breathe, and Stiles smells like open air.

By the time they’ve wrapped things up with Aurelia’s family, Stiles only has two weeks to make it back to Syracuse to start his senior year. So Derek goes with him. It takes them about a week more of hotels and heart-to-hearts before they make it into town. Stiles lives with two other people, but neither of them arrive for a few more days, and even if they did, he’s been assured that they’re fairly used to random people being in Stiles’s bed.

“Is that all I am,” Derek jokes, “another lay?”

Stiles stills, sandwich halfway into his mouth. Maybe that wasn’t the right thing to say. He calmly takes a bite and swallows it. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Derek sidles up next to him. “Do what?”

“Lead you on again. I don’t wanna hurt you like that, especially not now.”

Wait, are they talking about— oh. He thought that was just Stiles’s base arousal smell, but apparently Stiles legitimately wants to have sex with him. “I’m not fragile. That’s why we get along so well; you don’t treat me like I’m gonna crack any minute.”

“You may not be fragile but I’ve broken you before.”

“Hey,” Derek replies gruffly, hand firm on the side of Stiles’s face. “We’re okay.”

And then Stiles kisses him. Yeah, Derek definitely read the situation right.

If he were thinking clearly, he’d shut this down and talk it out, because there are about a thousand ways this can end up horribly. But Stiles has a bad habit of making him not think clearly, and quite frankly, he likes feeling their tongues battle as hands explore bodies and _sounds_ come out of Stiles’s throat.

Derek hoists him up by the thighs and Stiles promptly takes the hint, wrapping his legs around him. “Oh my god…” he breathes out as Derek carts him to the bed. “How are you real?”

He doesn’t answer, just shoots him a wolfish smile and a flash of blue eyes. Everything in his body screams to take him quick and dirty, but that’s not actually what he needs right now. Derek might only get to do this once, so he’s doing it right. He lets Stiles down and makes sure he has his attention before slowly and methodically taking off his clothes. Stiles matches him item for item until they’re both just in their underwear. Derek climbs onto the bed and lies on his back, beckoning for Stiles to get on top of him. Stiles complies all too eagerly.

This time when they kiss, it’s soft and tentative. They take their time exploring, memorizing every muscle and every swath of skin. By the time Stiles’s mouth reaches the waistband of Derek’s underwear, he’s unbearably hard and ready to put the guy’s motor mouth to use. He lifts his hips for Stiles to expertly remove the only thing standing in the way of his hot breath on Derek’s skin. He messes with him a bit, licking everything but the tip before finally sinking down on his cock. It rips a low growl out of him involuntarily; clearly Stiles has been practicing. The boy ( _he’s 21, Derek, he’s a man_ ) seems to like Derek thrusting up into him, so he grabs onto his head and pumps a few times before backing off. Stiles grunts out a ‘fuck’ before sinking back down onto him. His hands wander across his thighs and Derek leads one of them down to his hole. Stiles pops off and looks at him wide-eyed for permission, which Derek gives with a smirk and a nod of his head. Stiles doesn’t miss a beat, just inserts a finger into his mouth before using it to gain entrance to Derek’s body. “Never took you for a pillow queen.”

Derek raises an eyebrow at that. He makes quick work of switching their positions so that Stiles is on his back, slack-jawed and underwearless, and Derek is straddling him, handing him the lube. Stiles recovers from his bewilderment and lubes up his fingers as Derek presses insistent kisses into his lips. He ruts desperately against the younger man’s cock as his obscenely beautiful digits slowly make progress on Derek’s hole. It’s starting to become too much, so he whispers huskily into his ear. “Fuck me…”

Stiles lubes himself frantically before lining up and driving in. He doesn’t waste time letting Derek adjust, and the wolf is totally on board with that. He lets out a pleased rumble before lifting himself up and slamming down again, which startles a shout out of Stiles. “Jesus, Derek, you trying to kill me? Seriously, your ass is made of magic.”

Derek lets out a snort before continuing to impale himself on Stiles’s impressive member. Suddenly, those magical fingers are wrapped around Derek’s own erection, pumping in syncopation to his movements. “Holy shit. I’m gonna come…”

“Do it,” Stiles grunts, clearly trying to stay focused on not doing the same. He’s biting his lip, and it drives Derek over the edge, shooting all over Stiles’s chest and neck and hands. Stiles slaps his thigh lightly when he’s finished, so he gets off of him. “Lay down,” he orders, and Derek readily complies. Stiles lifts his ass up and plunges back in, using Derek’s come as extra lubrication (perks of being a werewolf: no STDs). It doesn’t take him much longer to bottom out inside him and shoot his load, and when he’s done he flops dramatically down onto Derek.

“Dude…”

“Yeah.” Derek caresses his face and draws it to his for the lightest of kisses. Then he’s off to the showers, the sound of Stiles coming in after him a welcome one.


	11. You'll Never Know How Real to Me You've Been

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Always Summer" Yellowcard

Stiles’s mantra has long been to ignore the problem until it’s no longer a problem. Which is basically the summary of every douchetastic thing he’s ever done, because the problem never just goes away. Case in point: Derek.

It’s been 48 hours since they had sex, and Stiles is freaking out. Ever since Malia, he’s had a very strict rule about sleeping with people he cares about, as in _never do it again, Stiles, do you have a deathwish?!_ It’s worked well for him so far, and he really should have taken his own advice. Because of course he breaks the rule for the one guy to whom he can do the most damage.

Stiles has put Derek through a lot of crap over the years, and this was the one thing Stiles promised himself he wouldn’t do to him. _Seriously Stiles, what the hell is wrong with you?_

“Stiles, sit down,” Derek calls from the living room where he’s been watching crappy TV, although the set is turned off now, which means he wants to talk. Shit.

“No thanks, I think I’m just gonna stand here awkwardly a little longer.” He hears Derek huff dramatically before moving down to the floor, legs crossed, back rigid. “Noooo, I don’t wanna talk about feeeelings…”

“Then stop smelling like you’re about to swallow cyanide.”

“How do you know that’s not just how I smell?” He doesn’t even need to see the eyebrow raise. It’s implied. “Yeah, didn’t really think that one through.”

“Stiles, we need to talk about it.”

He releases a stressed breath. “Yeah, I know. Hold on.” He walks into the living room with forced calm and sits with his back to Derek. The older man seems to intuit that Stiles needs to be the one to start things off, so Stiles takes in some deep breaths and holds them until he can speak without freaking out. Then he goes for it.

“I’m in love with you.”

Derek whips his head around and _growls_. “Are you fucking joking?”

“Sorry, I had to. It was way too serious in here, I wouldn’t have been able to say anything.” Derek visibly reigns himself in and Stiles quells his laughter. Although now that he thinks about it… He starts again.

“Did you ever notice how the big things in our relationship happen over summers? Like when I helped you look for Erica and Boyd, or when you came out to me, or when I broke up with Malia?”

“That’s because I mostly only see you over the summer.”

“Well yeah, but we always stayed in contact the rest of the year when we were on speaking terms. Stuff only changed between us over summers.”

“What’s your point?”

Stiles hesitates. “I don’t know. I just think it’s interesting.”

Derek doesn’t respond. Stiles doesn’t blame him, it’s not like he gave him much to go off of. Especially since this particular summer is the one in which his fiancée died.

“How did we get here?” Stiles’s voice comes out gravelly and tense. This is so far from where they started.

“I don’t know.”

Stiles doesn’t want to say it, but he has to. He has rules for a reason, and he needs to make up for breaking the biggest one. “I can’t do the boyfriend thing, you know that.”

“I’m not asking you to. I don’t even think I can handle another relationship anytime soon.”

He’s halfway through it. He just needs to breathe. “We also shouldn’t have sex again. Not that it was bad! I think we can both agree it was really fucking good. Oh hey, I made a pun, ‘fucking good’?”

Hearing eye rolls is a god-damned gift.

“I still…” Stiles pauses, hoping the words will come to him. “I care about you. Like, a lot. But I don’t wanna hurt you, and I feel like if we keep sleeping together you’ll forget that I can’t give you what you need.”

Derek reaches behind himself with an expectant hand. Stiles takes it. “You already give me what I need. I don’t need you to be my boyfriend or my fuck-buddy. I just need you to be my Stiles.”

Stiles huffs out a sigh of relief that turns into a laugh. He made it. “God that was cheesy, dude. ‘Your Stiles’, how’s that for a greeting card? ‘Valentine’s Day is just around the corner, folks! Don’t forget to get a card for your Stiles!’”

He often finds himself wishing he could bottle Derek’s laughter so that the world never forgets it. This is one such moment.

“Zucchini.”

Stiles snorts involuntarily. “What? Did you just say ‘zucchini’?”

Derek smirks as he turns to face him. “Yeah. Isn’t that what someone’s queerplatonic partner is called?”

Stiles smacks his forehead, because how the everloving fuck did he forget queerplatonic was an option? “Right, I remember now, queerplatonic’s when you… yeah, basically exactly everything I want out of you, wow Stiles, way to not know anything about your own identity.”

Another laugh escapes Derek throat. Seriously, Stiles is melting here. “You memorized everything the internet could tell you about werewolves when Scott was turned, but you couldn’t look further into how other people like you describe themselves and their relationships?”

“Excuse you, I did, I just forgot. I uhh…” Stiles coughs, because ‘hello, admission I never wanted to share even during trust-circle time’. “I never thought I’d need words for something like this. I always figured I’d have the pack and the people I sleep with, and that’s it.”

Derek pulls him into a hug and presses a kiss into his hairline. Then he gets up onto one knee. “Stiles Stilinski, will you do me the honor of being my zucchini?”

And seriously, Stiles just needs a vault labeled ‘Derek Laughter’ because the two are left cackling for a solid five minutes before Stiles has the wherewithal to say yes.

~~~

Three years later, they still cuddle at night and tell each other secrets and bicker like it’s their job. They live together in the house Stiles’s dad sold them when he moved in with Melissa, and according to the government, they’re happily married, because it’s a lot cheaper come tax day. They go out to the long-ago-demolished Hale house and water the willow tree that really did start growing out of Aurelia’s body; it gives Derek a strange sense of comfort. They only have sex on very special occasions— because it still freaks Stiles out to sleep with friends— and other than those rare nights ~~or weekend marathons~~ , they outsource that part of their relationship to whomever they find, then swap stories over breakfast. About once every six months, Derek tries dating people in addition to his arrangement with Stiles, but there’s no urgency to it. They still save each others’ lives as a matter of course, and they still call each other their zucchini, both ironically and unironically. Not that they’d ever correct someone who said they’re partners.

Because they may not go on dates or make goo-goo eyes or be ‘in love’ or even act like they’re friends most days, but they’re still each other’s air. It’s not Happily Ever After™, but it’s happy, and that’s all they really care about.

**Author's Note:**

> Explanations of trigger warnings--
> 
> Rape/Non-Con: Besides general mentions of Kate Argent (and a discussion of Stiles's victim blaming comment in 3x10), the only rape/non-con element is an explicit dream sequence wherein Stiles and Malia are having otherwise consensual sex until the Nogitsune takes over and induces forced impregnation. To avoid this scene, just skip the first ten paragraphs and begin reading at "Okay, so maybe he was wrong..."
> 
> Nice Guy Trope/Emotional abuse/Infidelity: Lydia provides an in-depth critique of the Nice Guy habits of Stiles and Derek in chapter 4. Stiles cheats on Malia several times yet insists on remaining together and exclusive. He tries to make up for his romantic disinterest in her by constantly 'working on' their relationship, despite consistently shutting her out. When they break up, he gets drunk and tries to make her jealous by declaring his love for Derek. These themes are present throughout the first half but are primarily concentrated in chapter 6.
> 
> Minor character death: An original character becomes engaged to Derek before being killed in battle with the monster of the week. (chapter 8)
> 
> Homophobia/Biphobia: Stiles reacts poorly to Derek revealing he's bisexual and spouts several microagressions at him and when venting to Lydia (chapters 3-4). His canon queerbaiting is discussed (chapter 4), and his own internalized biphobia and homophobia initially prevent him from accepting his pansexuality.


End file.
